


Wicked

by sterlingdragonfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Suspense, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-10
Updated: 2006-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingdragonfly/pseuds/sterlingdragonfly
Summary: Severus Snape is trying desperately to save Albus Dumbledore's life, and doesn't hesitate when it comes to illegal methods. Harry Potter is working as an undercover Auror who is investigating a series of murders. Their paths cross in an unexpected way.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Harry Potter, Severus Snape and the other characters in the Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., et al. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"How is he tonight, Poppy?" Minerva McGonagall's usually stern voice was soft from concern.

 

Poppy Pomfrey shook her head sadly. "He's fading – there's not much more I can do for him at this point, other than keep him comfortable." She sniffled into a handkerchief then looked at her two companions. "We must prepare ourselves for the worst, my friends. I doubt he'll last much more than a couple of weeks now."

 

Minerva bit her lip, tears forming in her eyes. "What about that treatment Severus discovered? Is there any possibility of it working on Albus?"

 

Poppy looked aghast at her friend's suggestion. "Minerva! Those potions are illegal for a reason – they're Dark Arts of the worst kind, not to mention dangerous for both the patient and the preparer."

 

"So, you'd rather let him die than take the risk of using a Dark potion?" Severus Snape jumped up from his chair and began pacing. He raked long fingers through his hair in frustration, then swirled to face the two women. "It is foolish not to attempt the treatment – Albus is dying anyway, and the risk to me is inconsequential."

 

Minerva carefully watched Snape as he prowled about her office, randomly picking up various knickknacks and glaring down at them. She cleared her throat quietly to gain his attention then asked, "Would you explain the procedure to me please, Severus?"

 

Snape took a breath deep into his lungs, trying to calm himself before he said, "The course of treatment lasts approximately five months. Every two weeks, I would need to brew a new potion, each one slightly different from the previous one. The potion would be administered twice daily until a cure is achieved."

 

"I notice you don't explain about the ingredients you need for the potions – ingredients that are abhorrent in nature," Poppy exclaimed, an outraged expression on her normally kind face.

 

Snape coolly raised an eyebrow. "I've done worse things in my past for a cause that meant less to me than Albus' health does now." He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache that was threatening and quietly continued, "Rest assured, Poppy, I have absolutely no problem with the procurement of such… distasteful items, or with the administration of said potions to Albus. Your job will be to monitor his condition, nothing more." Their eyes locked in a battle of wills, until Poppy's shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping to the floor in defeat.

 

Minerva stood, shaking out the creases from her robes as she spoke, "Then we are agreed. Severus, please begin the potions as soon as possible. There is little time to spare." She calmly eyed her two companions as she added, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this must go no further than this office, lest we all land in Azkaban."

* * *

Harry sighed wearily as he entered his small, dark flat and quietly closed the door behind him. He tossed the files he'd brought home from the office onto his desk, then went into his bedroom to prepare for this evening's work. He stripped off his clothing, tossing them haphazardly toward the hamper and walked into the bathroom. Adjusting the shower to the temperature he wanted, he stepped under the hot stream and allowed the warmth to ease his tight shoulder muscles.

 

He'd slept part of the day, leaving his flat barely in time to walk into that afternoon's briefing as it began. Harry snorted derisively as he thought about the 'discussion' he'd ended up having with his boss, which almost resulted in his being sacked.

 

Harry had sat quietly through the meeting, drawing small doodles on his notepad as Kingsley Shacklebolt droned on about the different cases their unit was involved with. He'd kept his opinions to himself, until Shacklebolt assigned the case they'd been going over to Donovan O'Malley, a newly trained Auror. Harry had glanced over at the young man, wincing inwardly at the frightened expression on his face, and his temper flared. He stormed to the front of the room, slamming his hands down on the desk in front of Kingsley.

 

"What the fuck are you thinking of, Kingsley?" Harry'd growled, "Are you trying to get another kid killed?"

 

Kingsley flinched at the anger on Harry's face, but answered calmly, "Every other Auror has a full caseload; Donovan has to take it."

 

Harry shook his head vehemently. "Bullshit, Kingsley. Give him a different case, unless you want him to end up like Rogers."

 

Stephen Rogers had been directly out of Auror training and excited to be assigned his first undercover case. He'd been investigating the murders of several young male prostitutes around Knockturn Alley, and had ended up as one of the victims. They had recovered his body two weeks earlier.

 

The suspect was randomly picking up hustlers, then gruesomely murdering them and mutilating the bodies. Even more disturbing to Harry was the fact that the six corpses were missing organs. A heart, a lung, the eyes – each body was missing a different part.

 

Shacklebolt narrowed his dark eyes and quietly stated, "Watch it, Potter. You're bordering on insubordination right now."

 

Harry straightened up and shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine then. Fire me, if you want. Or," he paused, frowning at his boss, "you could assign me the fucking case and give Donovan one of my less dangerous ones. It's your choice." He crossed his arms and glared at Kingsley.

 

"Why, Harry?"

 

Waving one hand at Donovan, who was standing nearby listening, Harry replied, "No offense to young Donovan here, but he doesn't have any field experience. The murderer is proving to be ruthless, and it's already cost us Rogers – another unseasoned young Auror. I would prefer not to see our numbers decimated." He looked over at the young man and smiled reassuringly.

 

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, idly playing with a quill as he thought about Harry's argument. He glanced over at Donovan and asked, "Is that all right with you?"

 

Donovan nodded, "To be honest, sir, I think it's for the best. Harry has a lot of experience, and he can guide me on his case." He smiled wryly and added, "I did okay in my classes, but I'd really prefer to start small, if you don't mind."

 

"All right then – Harry, I expect you to go over the details with Donovan after the briefing is over, then you can take the files for your new case home with you to check out. I expect you to begin tonight." Kingsley handed the information on the murder case to Harry, then stood up and addressed the room. "I believe we've covered everything, so you're dismissed. Be careful out there." He picked up his notes and nodded to both Harry and Donovan, then left the room.

 

The two men retreated to Harry's cubicle, where he handed over the folders to one of his less challenging cases, pointing out various leads that the young man could follow. As Donovan was leaving, he turned back and said, "Thanks for that back there. I was shocked when Shacklebolt assigned me the murder case – I would have mucked it up. It's definitely in better hands now." The two men grinned at each other, then Donovan hurried away.

 

Harry sighed when he realized the water had cooled. He shut off the spigot, then got out and toweled himself dry. He draped the damp towel over the rack then moved into his bedroom and in front of the closet.

 

"That's a sight I'll never get tired of looking at, love." A merry voice called out from near the bed, "You certainly have a fine ass – pity you have to hide it under Auror robes on a nightly basis."

 

Glancing over his shoulder, Harry spotted a grinning Dean Thomas, sitting cross-legged on the bed, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. He smiled tenderly as he said, "Hello to you too, love."

 

Dean leaned back against the pillows, linking his hands behind his head and grinning broadly, "So, what kind of daring antics are you up to tonight, Harry?"

 

Harry turned back to the closet, reaching his hand toward the back and pulling out several pieces of clothing as he replied, "I'm tracking a murderer – someone's been offing some hustlers down around Knockturn Alley." He held up a pair of brown suede pants and a gold sleeveless shirt and asked, "So, do you think these will make me look like a prostitute?"

 

A giggly voice answered, "Do you remember the night I bought those for you, love? We were supposed to go out clubbing, but we got, umm… distracted instead. I don't think we made it out of the flat the entire weekend that time."

 

"Yeah, you always were a bad influence on me." Harry chuckled and began pulling on the soft pants. They were open along each side, held together by lacings. He did up the front closure and drew the short tee shirt over his head, then turned and faced the figure on the bed. Holding his arms out at his sides, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

 

Running his eyes up and down Harry's slender body, Dean grinned in appreciation. The tight shirt barely covered Harry's nipples, while the waistband of the pants rode low on his hips, leaving several inches of smooth, tanned skin exposed. The pants clung to his lower body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Harry's taut abdominal muscles rippled as he wiggled his hips, much to the other man's delight. "Too beautiful for mere words, love." Dean's expression saddened as he continued softly, "Harry, you need to let go."

 

Green eyes met brown as Harry whispered, "I can't, Dean. I miss you too much." He swallowed painfully and said, "Merlin knows I've tried. I just… it doesn't seem to work out."

 

Dean threw his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and crossing the room until he was standing close to the other man. He reached out and gently ran his fingertips down Harry's cheek, "It's been six years since I was killed, Harry. I never wanted this for you – you have too much going for you to be alone for so long."

 

Harry closed his eyes as he felt a cool breeze brush his face, wishing for the millionth time that it was truly Dean's warm touch, "I haven't been alone. There have been other men, you know." He opened his eyes again, tears glistening on his lashes as he blinked. 

 

Snorting in amusement, Dean countered, "Oh yes, I've seen them all. Meaningless shags with blokes you've sent away in the morning. That's not trying, Harry. That's just existing." He leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against Harry's. "I want you to promise me that you'll really look for someone, love. It's killing me, watching you suffer this way."

 

Harry nodded mutely as Dean crossed the flat to the front door. Dean blew a kiss at him as he left. "Go get 'em, tiger. And try to be careful – I don't want anything happening to you." With a wave, he was gone.

 

"I still love you, Dean," Harry's words echoed quietly through the empty flat. "I'll always love you."

* * *

"Complete dunderheads, the lot of them," Snape growled under his breath as he finished grading the last of the fifth years' parchments. He contemplated returning to his rooms for a headache potion – his head was throbbing from the inane ramblings of his students as well as the incessant chatter of the other teachers gathered in the staffroom. Wincing slightly at the pain behind his eyes, he decided to complete the sixth years' essays on the magical properties and the various uses of black hellebore before retreating to the dungeons and pulled the stack of scrolls closer to him.

 

He'd managed to work through half of the papers when he heard the door open and Minerva greet the other staff members. Severus ignored the disturbance as he read through yet another example of poor scholarship, muttering, "I don't know why I bother – the idiots don't care about anything other than Quidditch and the latest fads in fashion and music."

 

"Problems, Severus?" Minerva's amused voice asked as she slipped into the vacant chair beside him. "Surely the work can't be as bad as that?"

 

"You have no idea, Minerva." Severus rubbed his eyes wearily then glanced over at his friend, "Sometimes I feel as though it's useless, trying to instill some knowledge into their thick skulls. Maybe I should retire and go into private research."

 

Minerva cocked her head to one side, curiosity written on her face, "Why haven't you? You don't enjoy teaching and you're a brilliant potions developer. I would have thought that after the end of the war, you would have left here to pursue your specialty."

 

"In a word, Albus. He was the first person to trust me after I turned my back on the Dark Lord – I couldn't let him down." Severus' fingertips ghosted across his left forearm, where the reminder of his past lingered, taunting him daily about decisions made long ago. "I'll remain here as long as he's the Headmaster at Hogwarts."

 

Minerva's face brightened as she commented, "Speaking of Albus, the improvement in his condition is remarkable. I'm so glad we decided to go with your treatment, Severus."

 

Severus glanced around the room uneasily, relaxing slightly when he noted the others were involved in their own conversations. "Minerva, this isn't the best place for this discussion. Perhaps we should take this to your office." At Minerva's nod, he gathered up his quill and ink, carefully placing them in a pocket in his robes then picked up the students' papers and followed the Deputy Headmistress out of the room.

 

They walked to Minerva's office in silence, each lost in his or her thoughts. As they entered the darkened room, a flick of Minerva's wand caused the old-fashioned oil lamps to flare brightly then settle into a steady glow. Another swish of her wand and the fireplace roared to life, the flames licking cheerfully along the logs. Severus seated himself in an armchair near the fire while Minerva Flooed the kitchen and requested tea and biscuits.

 

A second later, there was a loud pop and Dobby the house elf appeared, laden with a heavy-looking tray. Minerva gestured toward an empty spot on her desk and Dobby carefully set it down. He turned and asked, "Is there anything else Dobby is getting for you, Professor ma'am?"

 

"No Dobby, this will suit us just fine. Thank you." Minerva smiled kindly at the house elf, who glowed with pleasure.

 

"Dobby is glad, Professor ma'am. If you is needing anything else, just call on Dobby, and Dobby is getting it for you fast." With a grin and a pop, Dobby disappeared.

 

Minerva poured two cups of tea, handing one to Severus as she set the plate of biscuits on the small table near him. She picked up her own cup and sat down with a contented sigh. She glanced at her silent companion and grinned, "Nothing more refreshing than a cup of peppermint tea, hmm, Severus?"

 

Quirking an eyebrow in her direction, Severus drawled, "It will suffice." He took another sip then placed his cup down in the saucer. "I believe we were discussing Albus earlier."

 

"I want to commend you on the work you're doing, Severus. Albus appears to be gaining strength every day – Poppy is quite pleased with his progress thus far. I truly didn't think when we first spoke about this, three months ago, that we would be able to say that." She turned her head toward Severus and quietly warned, "I think you should know that Poppy still isn't happy about the potions and their ingredients."

 

Severus shrugged as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles and picking up a biscuit to nibble. He grimaced at its sweetness and remarked casually, "She knew what I would have to do to obtain the items necessary for the cure. It seems a bit late to be expressing doubts now, don't you think?" He finished his biscuit then brushed the crumbs from the front of his robes. "What's the Muggle saying? Ah yes, the end justifies the means. Trite, but I feel it applies in this case."

 

"I completely agree – just be cautious, Severus, please. I don't want to save one friend and lose another." She continued seriously, "You're too young to be spending the rest of your life in Azkaban."

 

"No need to worry about me, Minerva. I'm always careful – how do you think I survived twenty years of spying for the Order?" Severus gracefully stood up and looked over at the woman. "Now, I need to do my rounds then prepare the next potion for Albus. If you'll excuse me." Bowing slightly in Minerva's direction, he exited the room and headed toward the lower portion of the castle.


	2. Chapter Two

Harry crossed his living room to the bar, where he poured himself a stiff firewhiskey and tossed it back in one shot. The pain he now felt was as intense as it had been on the day he'd come home from work to discover Dean's rapidly cooling body. There had been a note from Draco Malfoy attached to his bloody shirt, proudly announcing the success of his plan for revenge over Harry's part in his father's death.

 

He flopped down onto his sofa, reaching over and opening a small, carved wooden box. He withdrew a tattered piece of parchment, carefully unfolded it, and read the despised words again, even though he'd committed them to memory years ago.

 

_Potter,_

_I'm sure you thought I meant to kill you when I swore revenge on the day you and Weasley murdered my father. That would have been too easy for you. This way is so much better, don't you think? Now, you can live out the remainder of your life with the knowledge that your actions cost you the life of the person you love._

_Happy dreams, Potter._

_Draco Malfoy_

 

Malfoy had been right, the fucking bastard; Harry _was_ living with the guilt – he couldn't escape it, no matter how hard he tried. Harry stared down at the letter, absently caressing the brown stains where Dean's blood had dried on the paper. He'd kept the note, despite his friends' adamant protests, as a reminder to never allow anyone to get close to him again – he couldn't deal with the pain of losing another lover.

 

He replaced the note in the box, then got up from the couch. It was time to get ready for work. Harry walked back into his bathroom and took out several pieces of jewelry from his case. He slipped a sapphire stud into his pierced ear then wound a gold chain about his slender waist, fastening the small lion's head clasp so it rested just above his bellybutton.

 

There was one more thing he needed to do before he headed to Knockturn Alley. Harry grabbed his wand and looked into the mirror as he cast a glamour spell on himself. His normally dark hair was now a lighter brown, heavily streaked with bright blond highlights. Intense green eyes were changed to blue, matching the sapphire that twinkled in his ear.

 

Harry stepped back so he could see himself completely in the mirror. He smiled, pleased with his appearance – he looked as if he belonged on the streets. Nobody would associate a blond, blue-eyed hustler with the famous Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort. He slipped his wand into a hidden pocket near the outer seam of his pants then, snagging a leather jacket on his way out, he quickly left his block of flats and Apparated away.

 

******

 

Snape stepped gracefully around his lab table as he prepared Albus' potion. His hands moved with precision as he chopped, diced and ground the assorted ingredients. He mentally inventoried the gathered components: powdered white willow bark and ginger root, finely diced madder root, coarsely ground guaiac wood and small bottles of salamander blood and Peruvian Vipertooth venom.

 

Nodding with satisfaction, he pulled out his fire crab shell cauldron and placed it atop the low-burning flame. He poured four cups of sterilized armadillo bile into the pre-warmed cauldron, then meticulously measured each ingredient while the bile came to rolling boil. Snape added the willow bark and ginger root, then counted to fifty as he stirred the potion in a counterclockwise direction.

 

Reaching for the sliced madder root, Severus slid it into the bubbling concoction, reversing the direction of his stirring until the fluid changed to a light red color. He set the magical timer for five minutes, waiting until it rang before he put in the guaiac wood and the ten drops of salamander blood. The flame was reduced until the potion was simmering then he set the timer for eight hours. The dragon venom would be added last, after the cauldron was removed from the heat.

 

Snape thoroughly cleaned his work area, putting away the various knives, pestles and mortars he'd used in his preparations. He checked the potion once more – it would be fine until he got back from collecting the final ingredient for this particular batch.

 

Severus frowned slightly as he warded his lab and went to his rooms; Poppy was extremely upset about the whole situation and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't exactly thrilled with his actions either. He had thought to leave his days of illegal activities behind when Voldemort had been killed by Harry Potter.

 

He idly wondered what had become of the Wizarding World's Savior as he unbuttoned the special robe he wore while working on his potions and got into the shower. Harry had destroyed the Dark Lord at the very end of his seventh year. Severus remembered the boy standing proudly beside him as they received their Orders of Merlin, First Class at the Leaving Feast, along with Albus Dumbledore and Ronald Weasley.

 

Snape had been astonished, to say the least, when Dumbledore, Potter and Weasley insisted to the Ministry that they wouldn't accept their awards unless he was granted one as well. All three of them averred that Severus had been as instrumental in bringing down Voldemort as they had been, and Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic at the time, had reluctantly agreed.

 

Harry had graciously accepted his medal, then grabbed the hand of his young lover and departed Hogwarts once the final goodbyes were said. He had a small flat in London and became deeply involved with his Auror training.

 

Severus heard many different rumors about Potter over time, but he didn't set eyes on him again for nearly two years. Not until Severus, along with the rest of the faculty and most of the upper-classmen from Hogwarts had attended the funerals of Dean Thomas, Hermione Granger-Weasley and her tiny daughter, Amber Rose, all ruthlessly murdered by Draco Malfoy and his cronies.

 

The services were held in the Great Hall at the castle – the room was crowded with mourners and the flowers arrangements that had been sent filled every nook and cranny. Ron and Harry had been positioned in front, near the caskets, as Albus gave the eulogies. The difference between the two men's reactions was obvious to anyone watching.

 

His parents stood at either side of Ron during the memorial service. Arthur had his arm around his son's shoulders, while Molly gripped his hand tightly, a handkerchief fluttering to her eyes occasionally. Ron kept his attention focused on Albus, the tears flowing unchecked down his face as his wife and child were remembered fondly. Ron's siblings were gathered close around them, ready to offer support if he needed it. Even Percy had attended, long held grievances forgotten in light of his younger brother's loss.

 

Harry had placed himself apart from everyone, staring at Albus without the slightest expression on his face. After Albus was finished speaking, Harry had turned slightly and Severus saw his eyes – they were deeply shadowed with grief, anger and guilt. When the service was over, Harry had brusquely pushed aside all attempts that the surrounding crowd made to pay their condolences, exiting the castle to wait outside for the funeral procession.

 

Snape had followed Harry – he understood what the young man was going through. He had once seen that same haunted expression in his own eyes when he looked in the mirror. Severus' young muggle-born lover had been tortured and killed when Voldemort wanted to test his loyalty to the cause. He'd been forced to watch as Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair flung curse after curse at the writhing boy, until with one final scream, all movement from the pain filled body ceased.

 

Apparating to the gates of Hogwarts immediately afterward, Severus had fallen to his knees and become violently ill. Once the heaving of his body ceased, he'd gotten to his feet and shakily made his way to the castle and into Dumbledore's office. He had renounced the Dark Lord that very night and offered his services as a spy to Albus.

 

Snape quietly observed Harry as he stared in the direction of Hogsmeade, but decided not to approach the grieving man. There was little he could say to alleviate the anguish the young man was currently feeling. When the pallbearers appeared, the caskets levitated between them, Harry had moved to his place behind them and slowly followed the procession across Hogwarts' grounds and into the small Hogsmeade cemetery.

 

After the caskets had been lowered into the ground, Harry walked over to the edge and tossed something small and golden into Dean's grave. He then approached Ron for the first time that day, quietly exchanging words with his friend. The two men embraced each other, then with a crack, Harry was gone.

 

Two weeks later, the bodies of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been discovered on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. Harry disappeared from the public eye after that and hadn't been seen or heard from since.

 

Severus finished shampooing his hair, then rinsed it and turned off the water. He spelled himself dry and quickly dressed in a black shirt and trousers, then slipped on a snug-fitting robe. He crossed his bedroom, opened a drawer in his bureau and took out a long wicked-looking stiletto. Severus slipped it into a hidden sheath in his boot, then picked up a large valise and made his way quietly out of his rooms and away from Hogwarts itself. He quickly walked to the front gates, slipped through them and Apparated to Knockturn Alley.

 

******

 

In the hour right before dawn, Harry wearily leaned against the rough brick façade of a weathered building and contemplated his evening thus far. The nocturnal inhabitants of Knockturn Alley were departing, leaving the lane almost deserted. Their work done for the night, the prostitutes had quietly called their goodbyes to each other as they made their way to wherever they spent their days.

 

Seventeen hopeful johns had tried to chat him up in the past nine hours and not a single fucking one had been his suspect. Harry closed his eyes briefly, deciding to call the night a bust and maybe grabbing a drink at a pub before going home. Pushing off the wall, he walked down the dark alley, quietly whistling a slightly off-tune muggle song.

 

The evening's results were disappointing. The hustlers had reacted poorly to his appearance in Knockturn Alley earlier in the evening – they'd hurled jeers and catcalls at Harry as they jealously guarded their favorite spots in the dark doorways and poorly lit corners. He'd tried to approach one of the quieter prostitutes at one point and question him about the murders, but the boy just looked around fearfully then hurried away without responding.

 

As Harry rounded the corner, he spotted a dark figure creeping through the shadows toward him. Harry watched the man then sighed. This one was behaving suspiciously enough to warrant an investigation. _'So much for my drink,'_ he thought resignedly. Mentally donning his assumed persona, he strutted seductively toward the man.

 

******

 

Quietly closing the door of the abandoned-looking building behind him, Snape glanced up and down the empty street. Satisfied that there was no one about, he stepped out of the doorway and edged his way down the alley toward the public Apparation point, staying deep within the darker shadows cast by the towering buildings surrounding him. There was little time to spare – a predawn glow was lightening the sky, signifying the need to hurry back to Hogwarts before his potion was ruined. Snape tiredly shifted the heavy valise from one hand to the other – the contents were too delicate to risk them by shrinking them with magic – and quickened his pace. Thank heaven this evening's work was almost completed.

 

He was close to his destination when he heard someone approaching, whistling off-key. Looking about warily as the footsteps came toward him, he smirked when he noticed the man's appearance. Merciful Merlin above, he was about to be propositioned by a prostitute. He drew closer to the nearby buildings, immersing himself in the protective gloom.

 

Snape halted as the hustler approached him. His eyes swept appreciatively down the lithe form, taking in the bared stomach muscles and the slight, provocative sway of the narrow hips. _'Too bad I don't have time to partake,'_ Severus thought fleetingly, _'this one looks quite enticing.'_

 

The young man stopped in front of Snape, huskily asking, "Hello love, fancy a bit of fun tonight?" He tilted his head to one side and smiled invitingly.

 

Snape shook his head and took a small step to the side, preparing to walk away.

 

A hand stretched out, sensuously caressing his face, "Are you sure? I could make it worth your while." A tendril of magic touched Severus' psyche, he could feel it attempting to push its way into his thoughts. _'Damn, the idiot is trying to cast 'Legilimens' on me.'_ He jerked his head backward and hastily reinforced his mental wards. He routinely practiced Occlumency when in this area of town – there were too many unscrupulous people who would use any knowledge they could glean from him – but the man now facing him appeared to be a particularly strong Legilimens. There was also something vaguely recognizable in the magic, a touch he'd felt before.

 

Snape studied the young man, the familiar tilt of the head and tone in the voice nagged at the back of his mind. As the hand reached out once more, fingertips lightly brushing against his chest, a slight shift in the hustler's appearance caused Snape to flinch involuntarily. He knew those eyes – he'd taunted, taught, protected and trained the boy for years.

 

"Harry Potter."


	3. Chapter Three

Harry grimaced when the man moved further back into the shadows. _'He's definitely acting as though he has something to hide,'_ ran through his mind as he drew nearer. Harry stopped, facing the prospective john and squinted upward, trying to make out the man's facial features in the dim light.

 

He whispered, "Hello love, fancy a bit of fun tonight?" and wasn't overly surprised when the man refused him. For some reason, some guys liked to play hard to get, even though it was apparent what they were down here cruising for. "Are you sure? I could make it worth your while." Smiling as seductively as he could, Harry gently touched the pale blur above him and wordlessly cast _'Legilimens'_ , reading – absolutely nothing in the man's mind. There wasn't even a glimmer of desire for him; there was only the image of fire.

 

The man wretched himself away from the touch and Harry frowned inwardly. There were very few people skilled enough at Occlumency to shield their minds from him – he must be more exhausted than he realized. Drawing deeply from the core of his magic, he extended his hand, touching the john's chest with the tips of his fingers and tried again. He calmly met the man's gaze, unaware that his glamour had slipped a fraction and that his own vibrant green eyes were staring out from his face.

 

Harry gasped as he heard the man utter his name – he would recognize that voice anywhere. The john he'd been propositioning was none other than his former Potions Master, Severus Snape.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.

 

******

 

"A hustler, Potter? All those years of education and extra training, and you've become a _hustler?_ " Snape was more than shocked – he was livid, angrier than he could ever remember being. How dare Potter squander his potential by prostituting himself out to nameless tricks? 

 

Harry closed his eyes for a second, thankful that his cover wasn't blown after all. He opened his eyes again and shrugged nonchalantly, "I do what I need to do in order to stay alive, Snape. Surely you can understand that?" Glancing down at the valise Snape was clutching, Harry decided to go on the offense. "What are you doing down here anyway?" He waved his hand around, indicating their surroundings.

 

Straightening up to his full height, Snape looked at Harry and said scornfully, "My affairs are none of your concern, Mr. Potter."

 

"Ah, but you're in my playground now, Professor. _I_ think you're down here looking for a piece of ass." Harry stepped closer to the other man and leered. "I could help you with this, you know." He cupped Snape's groin with his hand and gently squeezed.

 

Snape grasped Harry's wrist and threw off his hand. "Keep your hands off me, Potter. I haven't the slightest interest in buggering you." He glared at Harry, hoping that Potter hadn't noticed his body's reaction to his touch.

 

"I wouldn't exactly say that, Snape." Harry chuckled. Snape, or at least his prick, had definitely liked the idea of fucking him. His own cock twitched at the thought, and Harry ruthlessly squelched his rising desire. He refused to acknowledge the attraction he'd felt for the man since his seventh year at Hogwarts.

 

"Think what you will, Potter. This discussion is over." Snape quickly moved around the other man and stormed off, the hem of his robes swirling around his booted feet.

 

Harry stared after him, brow crinkled in concentration. Finally, he shook his head and decided he was too tired to deal with the implications of Snape's being here in Knockturn Alley. He'd think about it tomorrow, after he got some sleep.

 

******

 

The door creaked open slowly as Severus knocked on it with one hand, the other holding a steaming goblet. He peeked around the edge of the door and smiled at the old man lying in the four-poster bed at one end of the large room. "Albus, you're looking better every day. How are you feeling?"

 

"I'm still weak, but all in all, I think I'm doing well." Albus struggled to sit up for a minute, then plopped back into the pillows with a sigh. "Blast."

 

Severus came over to the bed and carefully set the full goblet on the nightstand. He slid his long arm behind Albus and raised him up, then adjusted the numerous pillows to help brace the fragile man. After sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached over and picked up the goblet again, holding it to Albus' trembling lips. "Here, this should help. Careful, it's hot."

 

Albus slowly drank the potion, making disgusted faces at the flavor as he drained the cup. "Severus, my boy, I think this would be much improved with a little honey. It tastes quite horrid." He handed the goblet back to Snape and leaned back against the pillows again. His eyelids fluttered closed as the potion worked its way into his system and soon he was quietly snoring.

 

Severus gently brushed a strand of long gray hair away from Albus' face, and thought about how much he owed this man. The night he had fled back to Hogwarts, a devastated, bitter nineteen-year old, Albus had calmly sat and listened to his broken confession about his activities as a Death Eater. He then did something no one else in Severus' life had ever done – Albus had taken him in his arms and comforted him as one would a child.

 

Over the years, Albus had proven to be more of a father to him than Tobias Snape ever had, and Severus vowed to repay the debt, no matter what the cost to himself.

 

Grasping the thin hand that was lying on the counterpane, Severus felt for the pulse point in the wrist. Albus' heartbeat was thready but regular – no more arrhythmia. He returned the hand to Albus' side and leaned forward, placing his cool palm against the sleeping man's forehead. Satisfied that there were no adverse reactions to the new potion formula, Severus got to his feet, retrieved the empty goblet and turned to leave the room.

 

Before he reached the door, the fireplace flared and Poppy Pomfrey stepped through the Floo. The two colleagues froze as they stared at each other, then Severus nodded politely and said, "Good morning, Poppy."

 

"Severus." Poppy glanced over at the Headmaster and softly queried, "How is he doing this morning?"

 

"His strength is returning slowly, the irregular heartbeat appears to be gone and the fever has broken. He's exactly where he should be at this point in the treatment."

 

Poppy walked to the side of the bed and pulled out her wand, slowly running the tip across Albus' sleeping form. She smiled as she read the results then asked over her shoulder, "He's had his potion this morning, correct?"

 

Severus chuckled. "Yes, and he was complaining the whole time." Shooting an affectionate look at Albus, he continued, "He'll sleep for a while – I put a sedative in the potion to help him – but he'll probably be cantankerous once he wakes up. I believe this enforced bed rest is beginning to irritate him."

 

Poppy thought for a minute then said, "Maybe we can get Hagrid to carry him out to the gardens for a while. A little fresh air might do him some good." She straightened out the blanket and crossed over to the fireplace. "I've set some monitoring wards that will notify me if there are any changes in his condition." She took a pinch of Floo powder and paused before saying, "I owe you an apology, Severus. Very few people would put themselves at risk for such an old man." Poppy bit her lip then whispered, "Thank you." Tossing the Floo powder into the fire, she quickly stepped in and was gone.

 

Severus returned to his rooms, anxious to clean up and rest for a while. He'd been up for more than thirty-six hours, relying on Pepper-Up Potion to get him through his Friday classes as well as the brewing he'd done last night. He knew he needed to decide what to do about his early-morning encounter with Potter, but his mind was too hazy to function properly right now. It was a problem that would have to be put off until later.

 

******

 

Harry blinked down at the report, the words blurring together into a jumbled mess. He groaned as he tossed it aside in frustration. Fuck, he hated the paperwork involved with his job. Rubbing his hand across his face in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he reached for the next file in the basket. As he was nearing the end of the pile on his desk, there was a soft knock at the door. Kingsley Shacklebolt poked his head in and asked, "Harry, do you have a minute?"

 

"Sure, Kingsley. Come on in." Harry gestured to the chair across from his desk with his chin.

 

Shacklebolt picked up the stack of papers resting on the chair and set them on the floor. He lowered himself into the seat and stretched his arms over his head with a sigh. "I'm not sure if you heard, but they found another body last night in Nightshade Lane. Male, about nineteen, name and address unknown."

 

"Shit." Harry cringed at the news – he'd been there last night, could have passed the killer in the dark. "Was the body mutilated as well?"

 

Kingsley nodded "Yes. The victim was slashed open with a sharp implement, and the liver was removed." He grimaced as he remembered watching the autopsy. Thirty years in the field and he still had to deal with a queasy stomach sometimes. He swallowed hard and asked, "How did it go last night? Did you see anyone suspicious while you were down there?"

 

Harry hesitated as he thought about Snape and his behavior, then shook his head. Even though the man had been acting peculiar, there wasn't enough reason to drag his name into the investigation – yet. He would just have to keep his eyes open to see if Snape showed up again. "Other than getting some really bizarre propositions, I didn't find out anything useful to the case. The guys working last night refused to talk to me, so basically the evening was a wash."

 

"Going back out tonight?" 

 

Glancing down at the note he'd just added to his report, Harry nodded. "I have to go – I need to catch this bastard before he strikes again." Heart, lung, eyes, kidney, brain, pancreas and now liver. Damn, he was dealing with one sick asshole here. He picked up his quill again and wrote 'Snape?' below the list then closed the file and slipped it into his backpack. "Anything else?"

 

Kingsley shook his head as he got to his feet. "No, that pretty much covers it. Good luck tonight, Harry." He made his way out of the office, quietly closing the door behind him.

 

Harry braced his elbow on the desk and leaned his chin on his hand as he contemplated the man he'd encountered on Knockturn Alley earlier in the day. Snape was an enigma and he fascinated Harry. Even though he'd spent seven years as a student in his classroom and an additional two years as a fellow soldier in the war against Voldemort, Harry still didn't know the man very well. However, he acknowledged that he wanted to try. Maybe this case would give him the chance to do just that.

 

******

 

Snape pulled out his pocket watch and quickly checked the time. If he hurried, he could stop in and see Minerva before leaving for Diagon Alley. He replaced the watch in his vest pocket and warded his door before beginning the long trek from his rooms to the interim Headmistress' office. He soon found himself standing in front of the portrait of one of Minerva's ancestors that was guarding the room. Muttering the password to the young woman, he smiled as she cuddled a small kitten. "Abyssinian." The door swung open and he entered the cluttered office.

 

"Ah, Severus, come in and have a seat." Minerva looked up from her grading and smiled welcomingly.

 

Severus remained standing. Not wanting to waste time on social niceties, he went straight to the point. "Minerva, what have you heard about Potter? Do you ever see him or even hear from him?"

 

Minerva shook her head sadly. "No, Severus. The last I saw him was at Dean's funeral. Other than that…" She frowned slightly at the thought. "Now that I think about it, I don't believe Albus has heard from him either. I'm confident he would have said something if he had."

 

Nodding grimly, Snape turned to leave. It was just as he assumed; Potter had cut himself off from everyone and everything in his past after his lover's death.

 

"Severus, why the sudden interest in Harry? It's not as though you were on friendly terms with him, after all," Minerva softly questioned him.

 

Snape put his hand on the doorknob and replied, "Not now, Minerva. I'll tell you more when I am clearer on the situation." He pulled the door firmly closed behind him as he departed.

 

In the ten days since he'd last seen Potter, Snape had made quiet inquiries into the man's whereabouts. None of his many underground contacts had any information on what Potter had been up to for the past six years. Discovering now that Minerva and Albus had not had any contact from him since the funeral disturbed Snape, although he wasn't interested in evaluating the reasons why at this particular moment.

 

He strode through the nearly deserted hallways, smirking as the small groups of students he encountered on the way scattered when they spotted his approach. Snape returned to his rooms and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. There were several errands to be completed before he went in search of his prey.


End file.
